Pirating Material
by Starath
Summary: One day Captain Don Karnage caught his crew listening to a radio show, and he didn't like what it had to say about pirates. It was time to teach the author, Magdalen Briar, a few things about pirating, yes-no? As if things are ever so simple, especially when an old rival becomes involved...
1. Chapter 1

Pirating Material

By: Starath

_Author's Note:__ Back when I was six years old, I watched Talespin religiously every weekday at 4:30. This is more than just a fanfic to me, it's a tribute to my childhood heroes and adventures no one else heard about. Very special thanks to all those who helped me with this and listened to my ideas without complaint: AmusedBookworm, Lesselsnowstar, and SneaSnea. You guys are awesome. Happy reading, everyone!_

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><p>"<strong>Perhaps on the rare occasion pursing the right course demands an act of piracy, piracy itself can be the right course?" <strong>

– **Governor Swann, **_**Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl**_

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><p>"Turn it up! Turn it up!" called Mad Dog over the roaring laughter.<p>

"Y-yah, this is my favorite part!" said Dumptruck, trying hard to stay upright in his seat.

Gibber reached over to the radio and twisted the volume knob. The gathered air pirates leaned forward, eagerly listening to their favorite radio show. Their chairs were actually crates, barrels, anything they could find to sit on instead of the cold rock floor. After a dramatic pause, a somewhat Spanish-accented male voice howled from the radio.

"What do you MEAN there are no gold coins in the butter?"

Dumptruck tumbled off his barrel, hooting in laughter. Mad Dog shortly joined him. Hacksaw pounded on his crate so hard he nearly punched it right out from underneath himself. The radio show continued on.

"We tried telling you," said another male voice, "but nooooo, you had to go and empty every single container of butter in the cargo hold."

"You lied before! Do you really think you can make a fool of me, the great pirate Juan Barrage?"

"Well, it ain't really hard. Bet you have all the grease you need for your planes now, huh? Hope you like popcorn!"

Mad Dog gasped for breath. "P-popcorn he says! Ahahaha!"

Nobody recognized the sound of a boot furiously tapping away. Gibber spotted the boot's owner first and jabbed Hacksaw with his elbow. Following his friend's frantic gesture behind them, Hacksaw's mouth snapped shut. He nudged Dumptruck. The great dane wiped tears of mirth from his eyes and sat up so fast Mad Dog rolled into his lap.

"Oh! Er, ah, hello Cap'n! Did you come to listen too?"

Don Karnage tested the blade of his sword across his thumb. "No…. I have come to find out where my lazy looters have gone. I expected to find _all_ of them hard at work for the next scheme to seize worthwhile plunder, but instead I find them wasting time in front of the talking box. What is wrong with this picturing frame, hmmmmm?"

"Ahh, Cap'n, we were just listening to our favorite radio show. We were going to get straight to work right after it was done, honest!" Mad Dog said, nodding in sync with his comrades.

"Oh, your favorite radio show? How silly of me, should I let you finish?"

The nodding increased ten-fold.

"And what is it about?"

"That's the thing! It's about pirates!" said Mad Dog excitedly.

"Yah, this crew out plundering and stealing and robbing and haffink a goot time!" added Dumptruck. "Just like us!"

Don's ears twitched. Much to everyone's relief, he sheathed his sword. "Really now? What—"

"Shhhhh!" interrupted Hacksaw. "It's back on!"

All eyes turned to the radio. Completely ignoring their Captain, the pirates pulled themselves back onto their seats to listen. Don lifted his eyes to the ceiling, seeking patience, and leaned against the roughly carved rock wall. If his crew liked the radio show so much, maybe it wouldn't hurt to listen for a minute. He blinked in surprise when the voice he heard sounded familiar.

"No I do not like _popcorn!_ What am I supposed to do with all this butter?"

"Fry chicken?"

"Enough!" Don recognized the hiss of a sword being drawn. Metal clattered to the floor.

"Want a hand with that, Barry? You seem to have some butter on your fingers."

"My name is not "Barry", it is Juan. Barrage. Get it right!"

The fur on the back of Don's neck bristled. It couldn't be…

"Whatever you say. Mind if I have my cargo back now?"

"Yes of COURSE I mind! I do not need my sword to—WHOA!" There was a comic sound effect for a slip, then a heavy thud. The listening air pirates, Don excluded, cracked up.

"You okay there Barry?"

"Okay? OKAY? Do I LOOK okay? Men, do not let him escape!"

A clamor of footsteps answered the order, followed by a chorus of yelps and falling sound effects. Don's teeth audibly ground together as his eyes narrowed. Around him, his crew laughed so hard they couldn't breathe. The radio show went on, its narrator outlining how the hero escaped from the butter-soaked pirates. Finally, Don's tolerance for it all shattered.

"EE-diots!" He roared, storming up to the radio. "Do you not know what this is?"

The laughter stopped at once. Too dim-witted to know better, Hacksaw replied to the question.

"A really good pirate show?"

"NO!" shouted Don, and sent them scrambling away from the radio to escape his temper. "This is a mockery of ME! Of US!"

"But, it's funny!" whined Mad Dog, hiding behind Dumptruck like everyone else.

"You would think so with your chickpea brain," snapped Don, "But I know better!" He grabbed the radio and shook it. "Whoever made this shall pay!"

A new voice wafted from the speakers. "This is K.C. Arnez here wishing you a good night after yet another sterling episode of "Hooked at Sea"."

"I will NOT be having a good night, thank you very much! I demand to know who has written this ridicule of noble pirating!"

"And just a reminder to all you fans out there, Magdalen Briar, the author of "Hooked at Sea", will be available for autographs this weekend."

A dangerous gleam lit in Don's eye. "Where?"

"Miss Briar will be on the _Melody Belle_ cruise ship, partying with the voice acting cast of "Hooked At Sea" as part of an authentic pirate cruise!"

"When?"

"Remember, it's this Saturday from noon 'til 4 o'clock. Get your tickets now!"

Don dropped the radio. "Men, prepare for departure!" He drew his sword and chopped it in two. "We'll see how they deal with _real pirates!"_

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><p>Randall nervously opened the huge door and peered around it. The room beyond swallowed the light he let in. Somewhere among the jungle plants to his left, something rustled. The looming figure at the front of the office, seated at a desk, acknowledged him with a low, stoic voice.<p>

"You may enter, Mr. Lotor. It is unwise to keep me waiting."

Randall felt his mouth go dry. His feet started forward when he wasn't paying attention. Oh why oh _why_ had he been chosen to do this? The raccoon's scared eyes stayed fixated ahead. He clutched the folder of papers to his chest and tried straightening his tie at the same time. He stopped just short of the desk that was almost taller than he was.

"Right, I apologize for the delay, Mr. Kahn, we've been—"

"Spare me the excuses." Shere Kahn nonchalantly trimmed his claws with his favorite blade. "Report."

"Er, er, right." He presented the folder to his boss. When Kahn reached for it, Randall drew back as if he expected to be bitten by a snake. "This is the most current news we have. Another cargo plane has been taken, along with one of our gun ships. We haven't heard anything from them."

"Pirates?" Despite his annoyance with the situation, Kahn sounded positively bored.

"Or perhaps foul weather. Er, we're not sure."

"Not… Sure?"

Randall gulped down the lump in his throat. "Like I said, this is the best information we've gathered. They disappeared somewhere after crossing south of the equator. The last radio check-in came from the Cook Islands."

"Over the ocean?"

"Yes Sir."

Kahn skimmed the report, idly remarking, "That is on the outskirts of Don Karnage's territory…."

"Yes Sir, very right Sir, he might—"

"I will not make do with mere conjecture, Mr. Lotor. I want my property found."

"We're doing all we can, Sir."

Kahn replaced the pages within the folder and glanced down at the trembling employee in front of him. What a pity that everything anyone did for him was never enough.

"Keep me updated."

"Of course, Sir."

He turned his chair away to the massive office windows and the view outside. Randall took his cue to leave and rushed from the room. Kahn sneered in disgust at his reflection.

"Weather, or _pirates…_"

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><p>The <em>Melody Belle's<em> gleaming white hull reflected off the ocean, turning the dark waters teal blue. Sea birds wheeled cheerfully overhead in the ship's wake, chasing each other in a game of tag. The cruise ship's passengers paid little attention to the birds, except for one, who pointed them out to his best friend.

"Hey Papa Bear, those birds sure look like they're having fun!"

Baloo held tight to the railing, moaning. "I would be too if I weren't on this floating houseboat."

Kit patted his back sympathetically. "Still not feeling good?"

"Been better."

Kit took his hand and led him toward the stairs leading below deck. "Come on, maybe we can find you some water at the buffet."

"Buffet?" Baloo's green color vanished. "Lead on, Little Britches!"

The main ballroom buzzed with excited conversation. Guests mingled, complimenting one another on their pirate costumes. Some had better luck balancing on fake peg legs than others. This, coupled with people not used to wearing eye patches, made for an interesting dance floor. An enthusiastic band of musicians played a waltz, accented by a lively violin and trumpet tune that imitated an age-old sea shanty. The buffet table in the next room invited a steady flow of hungry passengers to come and go as they pleased. K.C. Arnez, the DJ for 90.1 FM, the "New Oldies" station, narrated what he saw to the listeners of his radio show.

"We have quite the scene here, folks!" the spotted canine said, "Why, I see at least three Black Beards and one Captain Hook, but no one with red beards at all! Ha! And Miss Briar is still busy signing autographs. I can't tell you how pleased I am to know this charming young lady. If fame had to happen to anyone else, I can't think of another person who deserved it more. Wave for us, Miss Briar!"

Magdalen looked up and politely waved to the DJ. She finished speaking to the smiling little boy in front of her and leaned back. For a moment she had some silence to herself. She straightened her black bandana—was it crooked? and neatly arranged the pleats in her skirt. Even though it was happening now, she was still getting used to the idea of this party. It was simply publicity for the radio station and her show, but it felt like more than that. This was a taste of success, success she had all because she'd heard some great stories and used her imagination to supplement them.

"Madge, hey, Madge!"

A speeding red and black blur hurtled into her lap. Magdalen yelped and caught the energetic fox, a miniature version of herself with black hair instead of strawberry blonde.

"What is it, you rogue?" She tickled her little sister mercilessly.

Audrey giggled and pushed Magdalen's hands away. "When's the show going to start?"

"Soon, just like the last five times you asked me."

"But how soon?"

"Soon if you wait long enough."

Audrey huffed. "Grown-ups _never_ give straight answers."

Someone new approached the table. The grey bear tipped his pilot's cap and winked. "That's because if we told you everything, you'd never find out anything for yourself."

"That's a lousy reason." muttered the young boy beside him, grinning.

"Baloo! Kit! Hi!" Magdalen set her sister onto the table top and hurried around to give them each a hug. "You made it!"

"Those free tickets helped." said Baloo, gently returning the hug.

"Yeah, thanks for inviting us." said Kit.

"It was nothing, really. If not for you guys and the other pilots at Louie's, I'd have nothing to write about!"

"Glad our adventures were good for somethin'. Your scripts crack me up." Baloo laughed. "The butter thing gets me every time. By the way, you look nice all dressed up, if you don't mind me sayin'."

"You like it?" Magdalen twirled and adjusted her ruffled shirtsleeves. "Do I look like a pirate?"

Kit scratched his hat. "Sort of. Better than the ones we always see, anyway."

Audrey scooted off the side of the table. She landed next to him and poked his side with her sword made of cardboard. "You've seen real pirates?"

Kit bent over so he could be eye-level with her. "Yep."

"Are they big and scary, like Juan Barrage?"

He snickered and managed to keep a straight face. "Yep!"

"Wow!" Audrey turned to Magdalen. "Sis, can I play with him?"

Magdalen sighed and noticed the line of impatient people waiting to get her autograph. Baloo glanced over his shoulder.

"We can entertain her for a bit."

"I would appreciate it." She said, looking relieved. "Oh, before I forget, here." Magdalen hopped over the table to retrieve her small backpack. She pulled out three signed photographs. The voice acting cast of "Hooked at Sea" smiled at them. "One for each of you, including Louie. Please give him my thanks."

"Count on it." Baloo took the photographs and neatly folded them into his shirt pocket. "Thanks a lot."

"My pleasure. Audrey, be good for Kit and Baloo, okay?"

"Okay! Let's play Pirates, Kit! Walk the plank, Arrr!"

Kit held up his hands in surrender. "Oh no, she's got me surrounded!"

"Just so long as she surrounds you by the buffet." Baloo nudged him in the direction of the open doorway ahead.

"Ahoy there matey! You can't escape from Audrey Briar, the worstest pirate to sail the seventeen seas!" The little girl chased after Kit, swinging her sword with a flourish.

Chuckling to herself, Magdalen sat down and checked the clock on the wall. Nearly two o'clock. She smiled at the next person in line and apologized for the wait. Maybe she could get in the next batch of fans before the fun started. Basil and the gang always liked putting on a show as the characters of "Hooked at Sea." Giving the characters voices was one thing. Acting _and_ sounding like real pirates was another matter entirely.

The band musicians moved on from the lively waltz into a happy tune with a beat meant for quick dancing. The trumpet player's notes fluttered over the crowd, proud and crisp, as if announcing royalty to the party. Outside, a sound akin to rolling thunder growled through the air. Some of the guests noticed large shadows crossing the windows, but paid them little heed. Planes flew over Cape Suzette's inlet regularly. The commotion on the top deck was harder to ignore. Somewhere, a man yelled in outrage.

"Who do you think you are? You can't just—"

Heavy boot steps stopped at the base of the stairs. Everyone turned to the closed doors, curious.

"I can and I _will!_"

Both ballroom doors flew open wide with a bang. Framed by sunlight and his spotless uniform, Don Karnage strode in, backed by four scruffy air pirates.

"Greetings and pleasant disregards, pitiful passengers! It is I, the Plundering Wonder, Don Karnage!"

For the first time in his life, a room full of potential crime victims burst into applause. A few enthusiastic whistles carried over the clapping. The pirate Captain blinked in surprise, then felt himself tearing up. Finally, he had the fame and recognition he deserved!

"Bravo! Bravo!"

"What an entrance!"

"So _that's_ what he looks like! Better than I imagined!"

"Oh, he's _so_ handsome!"

Don quieted the crowd with a sweep of his hand. His swelling chest almost popped the buttons off his uniform. Behind him, Dumptruck looked to Mad Dog for answers. He could only shrug and glance at Ratchet and Slim. They didn't understand either.

"Thank you, thank you. I am, how do you say, touched in the heart for your welcome. It truly is an honor to be in my presence while I pillage you, I am sure—"

"Excuse me, but didn't you get your name wrong?"

Don stared at the woman who dared to interrupt him. "I beg your pudding?"

She gazed at him in awe, clearly star struck. "You're Juan Barrage, right?"

"No, I am Don Kar—"

Another woman piped up. She wore the most ridiculous pirate costume he had ever seen. "Are you really going to plunder us? Would you like my purse?"

"I've never seen a real pirate before," said a young man who nudged his friend, winking. "Perhaps you could threaten us while you're at it?"

Understanding dawned in Don's mind and had a devastating effect on his ego. Suddenly no longer fixated on his own greatness, he realized the ballroom was decorated to resemble a pirate tavern, and the passengers were dressed to match. He drew his sword, fully prepared to cut down everyone and anything grinning at him. Inspiration struck him just as quickly as the urge to kill. He flexed the blade of his sword as if contemplating their offer.

"Perhaps I should…"

His literally captive audience warmed to the idea.

"Please! It would make this more realistic!"

Don grinned with a full set of teeth. "How could I disappoint the listeners of _my_ show?" he turned to his eagerly awaiting fellow pirates. "You heard them, men, threaten and thieve away!"

Dumptruck, Mad Dog, Ratchet and Slim bounded out from behind him with guns and open burlap sacks ready. Don watched the bags start to fill, unable to stop smirking. Easiest plundering operation _ever._ Then he remembered something.

"Oh, my adoring fans, I have a question…"

"Yes? Yes?" They asked.

"Could someone point me in the direction of one Magdalen Briar, the very reason for my being here?"

It was as if he had asked the sea to part. The crowd neatly split and pointed. At the back of the room, a wide-eyed fox jumped up.

"He's not who you think he is!" she shouted.

Don tsked and sauntered over to her, a wolf cornering his prey. "Is that something to say to one of your characters, who happens to be a _real _pirate?"

She backed up and tried putting the table between them. "What do you want, you two-bit crook? Stay away from me!"

Slim jabbed at the next victim with the butt of his rifle, snickering as the gullible man exclaimed, "This show is so exciting!"

"If I did that, how would I kidnap you?" Don asked her casually, like one would sound when discussing the weather.

"Kidnap me?" Magdalen shrieked. "Why would you want to do _that?_"

"I am a pirate. It's what we do. When necessary." He hacked the table apart and kicked it aside. "And you are coming even if you don't like it!"

Magdalen screamed again and darted around him. Don spun to grab her. Something barreled into his knees hard enough to knock him over.

"You stay away from my sister, you big meany!"

"Ouch—what—!" Don staggered to find his balance and stared down, growling. A child with a cardboard sword pointed at his nose growled back.

"Go 'way, or I'll sliver your timbers!"

Ignoring his throbbing knees, he pushed the little girl aside. "This is no place for children—"

Audrey ducked and kicked his shin as hard as she could. "I'm not a children! I'm six years old an' tougher 'n' YOU!"

Baloo and Kit appeared in the doorway just in time to watch Don Karnage hopping on one foot, yelping. Immediately Baloo pushed up his shirtsleeves and lumbered forward.

"I thought I heard someone familiar out here. Beat it, Karnage, this party's not for you to crash!"

Don sidestepped in time to avoid a collision, his swift mind seeking a solution to this new predicament.

"You must have me confused, pilot-type person whom I do not know, for I am that show-famous pirate, Juan Barrage!" The name almost hurt to say.

"Oh, I'll make you confused all right!" Baloo skidded to a stop in time to turn around and charge again. Kit chucked an apple at the Captain's head. It smacked between his eyes.

" Ow—You'll pay for that! And you're ruining my show!"

The watching audience gasped. A burly dog caught Baloo by the arm.

"Whoa there, settle down!"

"Don't listen to him! He's not Juan!" shouted Magdalen, preparing to wallop Don with her backpack. He snatched it away at the last moment and barked orders.

"Dumptruck! Grab the girl! We are through here! To the planes!"

Pinned between the wall and Don's sword, she couldn't escape Dumptruck's grab or rough toss onto his shoulder. She hammered futilely against his back, screaming hoarsely.

"Put me down put me DOWN you oaf! This isn't the show, everybody! Help!"

Baloo strained against the hands that held him. "Let her go, Karny! What do you think this will do for you?"

Don strolled up to him, grinning. "In the long running it will benefit us all, and make me feel better. Trust me."

"Ha! I trust you as far as I can throw your plane!"

Kit held on to Audrey as she tried following after the pirates. "Madge! Sissy! Come back!"

"I caaaaan't!" She wailed.

Don paused at the entrance to the ballroom and bowed with a flourish. "I hope you have enjoyed my show, everyone, good day and good night!"

With that, he slammed the doors shut and hiked the stairs with cheers and applause thrumming beautifully in his ears.

On the top deck he found Dumptruck attempting to carry Magdalen across the rope that attached his plane to the cruise ship. She wasn't making it easy for him. Apparently the sharp drop into the ocean didn't worry her if they fell. Or maybe she wasn't thinking of that right now. The others had already boarded their planes with full sacks stashed behind their seats. Magdalen scratched and bit with a ferocity usually found in someone twice her size.

"Let me GO!"

After a particularly loud chomp, Dumptruck dropped her. Don grabbed her by the neck before she could plummet over the side.

"Hold this." he ordered the great dane, and slipped across the rope connecting to his plane with practiced ease.

"I'm not a 'this'!" Magdalen shouted at him.

The rumble of Don's plane engine drowned out her protest. He slid his plane next to the ship. "Now give her to me!"

She scrambled to hold Dumptruck's hand. "N-no, don't!"

"Haha, sorry lady, Cap'n's orders."

Magdalen bounced off the starboard wing and all but tumbled into Don Karnage's lap. She peered up into his smug face.

"You have _got _to be kidding me—!"

He pushed the throttle into full and ignored her piercing squeal in favor of the rushing wind.

"Back to the Iron Vulture!" He announced through the radio.

A chorus of victorious shouts answered him.

"Looks like you have some mighty nice treasure there, Cap'n!" said Mad Dog, cackling.

"Now now, do not be talking that way about our guest," chided Don. He smirked at her. "Comfy?"

"NO!"

"Good!"

Magdalen tried curling up into the smallest ball possible. The cold air, roaring plane engine and loss of solid ground played havoc with her senses. This was crazy! Didn't this sort of thing only happen in movies? Her stomach lurched when the plane tilted portside and began a steady climb. Suddenly a shadow blocked out the sun. She peeked up in time to see the open beak of the Iron Vulture closing in around them. Her stomach crawled into her throat as the plane bumped once, twice, and a third time. The world twisted before her eyes. Her ears rang.

"Home, sweetened home!" Don slowed the engine and neatly parked at the head of a row of planes. He hefted Magdalen out of his lap and passed her down to one of his crewmembers, already waiting to take her.

"You can let her go. She has nowhere to run now." Don leapt out and landed effortlessly on his feet.

"Now, was that so bad?" he asked her.

Magdalen staggered upright long enough to stumble forward and throw up on his boots.

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Pirating Material

Chapter 2

By Starath

_Author's Note:__ Since this has come up, I'd like to say that I'm aware Captain Karnage's first name isn't "Don. "Don" sounded best for the flow of narration, despite it being his title. I listen to ya'll when you talk to me._ ;)_ Thanks for reading, and strap in folks, here we go again! _

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><p>The persistent creaking and groaning of metal plating woke her up a few hours later. Magdalen stared at the ceiling dotted by rivets, wondering how they got there. This wasn't her room. It smelled faintly of salt and iron. She shivered and pulled the coarse blanket over her shoulders. Her mind slowly flitted through her most recent memories. Terror jerked her upright. Kidnapped—!<p>

The sudden movement proved to be too much for her queasy stomach. She pulled her knees up to her chest and moaned, waiting for dizziness to pass. Her eyes focused on the nearest stable object: A writing desk. She had to ignore the lantern swinging gently from an overhead beam. Her forehead crinkled into a frown. This didn't appear to be a prison cell, although there wasn't much here to look at. Wait; there was a cup of water too!

Magdalen got up to reach for it and banged her foot into a metal bucket next to the bed. She gargled the water and spat it out into the bucket. She spotted her backpack on top of the desk. How thoughtful. What was she supposed to do here? That stupid Don Karnage, how dare he do this to her! Her family and friends must be worried sick! Anger squelched any feeling of illness and she eyed the door. Maybe she could escape, or at the very least give Karnage a piece of her mind.

She eased the door open, cringing when it screeched on rusty hinges. She searched the corridor to her right and left. Empty. Perfect. She carefully closed the door, mindful of the hinges, and strode off to her left.

A raspy voice whispered in her ear. "The Captain wants to see you."

"EEK!" Magdalen cleared the floor by several inches. Her tail puffed out to twice its size at the same time. Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a short grey canine wearing a cap and ratty jacket.

"Don't DO that!"

Sometimes Gibber forgot that not everyone was used to him speaking. That was fine by him, though. He had her attention and motioned for her to follow him. She didn't move.

"Where are you taking me? Who are you?"

Gibber ignored the questions. He'd already told her where they were going if she had been listening to what he said. He paused and impatiently waved for her to come. If she was going to be difficult, he'd just go get one of the bigger pirates. Luckily for her, she trotted after him without any further comments.

He had to stop to allow her time for catching up with him. She had to look at _everything_, as if she had stepped into a new world. Gibber chuckled to himself. To him the Iron Vulture was home, so perhaps to her, this _was_ another world. Hopefully the Captain's plan would work out, and he'd get a real part in her radio show? The thought added a bounce in his step as he led her to the Iron Vulture's Command Bridge. There he found Don Karnage in his chair, writing in his diary. Gibber tapped the Captain on the shoulder and muttered into his ear. Don snapped his diary shut and hurriedly straightened his uniform.

"Very good! Show her in, please."

Gibber did and left, leaving the door cracked open so he and other pirates could overhear the conversation.

Don arose from his chair with fluid movements meant to give himself the most poise and authority possible. He spread his hands wide in greeting.

"Welcome to the Iron Vulture, Miss Briar. It truly is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Her reply came back quick and sharp. "Stick it in your ear, you scummy pirate!"

He sighed in exasperation. Why did they _always_ have to do this?

His pause gave Magdalen more than enough time to begin her rant. "Just what are you thinking, kidnapping me? What did I ever do to you? I have nothing of value and I am not useful to you or your crew. Until today I hadn't even been in a plane before!" She gasped for a breath and added, "Sorry about your shoes."

"It happens more often than you think." He waved the apology aside. "Are you through?"

"No, I am NOT through! Today was supposed to be perfect! My first time out with the radio station to meet everyone who liked my show! And you ROBBED them! I guess all those stories I heard about you were true, you're just a two-bit, crooked, arrogant, opportunistic scavenger! Now _what_ do you want with me, Karnage? What did I do to deserve this?"

He idly picked at a chipped claw. "Now that you'll let me speak, I shall tell you." He circled her twice and stopped in front of her.

"Go right on ahead, I'm listening." She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "And your breath stinks, too."

Don's muzzle wrinkled and his teeth appeared, but he held onto his temper with admirable restraint. "As for what you have _done_, Miss Briar, need I mention your wonderfully popular radio show that makes a mockery out of piracy and pirates, namely _me?_" He growled out the last word.

Magdalen shrank back. "Oh."

"I tolerate many things. I tolerate the Shore Patrol, idiocy among my crew, and even those little irritating itches you cannot reach on that one part of your back. I hate those! But what I cannot tolerate is ridicule that insults my honor and reputation as a pirate!"

"Honor? Hah!"

This time he did show his teeth and snarled. "One of your first lessons shall be not to laugh at that word."

"Lessons?"

"You shall learn what it means to be a pirate, and write a script that _I_ approve."

"_What?_" The sharpness of her shriek hurt his ears. "Now, wait a minute, you can't be taking those shows this seriously. They're comedy! They're supposed to be funny. Besides, I did my research on you and listened to tons of stories. I think I portray you rather accurately."

"I may be eccentric sometimes, but I am nobody's joke, as you will soon learn. The first thing to do, of course, is to lay down some rules."

"You can take your rules and shove them in—"

"FIRST of all," Don cut her off with a flick of his hand, "since you have quite the noisy mouth, for every insult you give me, you shall stay one more day. This will start…. counting ten minutes ago."

Magdalen's eyes bugged out. She opened her mouth and closed it several times without making a sound. Eventually she let out a strangled, "What?"

"Now, let us see…" Don counted on his fingers and held the result up. "Lookity look! You added a whole week in less than five minutes!"

"You can't DO that!" Magdalen shouted. "You're such a—a—!"

When she didn't finish, he prompted. "A…?"

She clamped her jaw shut and spoke around gritted teeth. "You're a scoundrel."

"I am a pirate. Lucky for you, it is the same thing."

"How long do you intend to keep me here?"

"As long as I intend to."

"You—!"

"Ah ah ah!" Don wagged a finger under her nose. Much to his satisfaction, she went quiet and glared at him. Her tail swished noisily, making her anger plain without needing any words. He began pacing.

"Second of all, you shall address me as Captain Don Karnage, Captain Karnage, Captain, the Dread Pirate Karnage… you get my driftwood, yes-no?"

After her nod, he went on. "Being that I am a gentleman of fortune, you will be treated well so long as you treat myself and my crew well. You are here to experience the life of a real pirate and write about it, as I said, in your silly little scripts. I will see to it that any faulty notions you have now will be corrected."

"But, I can't just write on command. It's a process. I do a lot of observing and thinking first. Then maybe I can write. It doesn't happen all at once, like robbing a ship."

"The correct phrase is 'to plunder'. Make note of that. And I know of the point on your head. You have been provided with private quarters, and my men will not disturb you while you are there, although they may be tempted."

By now Magdalen's fiery resentment had been doused. She rolled her eyes and stared at the floor, her tone betraying fear. "Yeah, if you don't kill me in my sleep."

Don halted and frowned. "I would not harm a lady if I did not have to, and nor would my crew, unless ordered otherwise."

She glanced up at him, trying to decide how much truth lay in his words. Don broke off the silence first and strolled to the door. As he predicted, there was a flurry of panicked movement from outside as the eavesdroppers fled.

"Do not look the gift horse in the ear, Miss Briar. Come, I shall take you to your first lesson."

Magdalen sighed. So there wasn't any way out of this. Yet. She approached him warily and rested her hand on his proffered arm. "You truly are a generous saint, Captain Karnage."

He chuckled. "I am, am I not?"

What Magdalen saw a few minutes later made her want to call him anything but a saint. She peered through the steam and smoke clouds wafting around the cluttered room, trying to make sense of the chaos. At least four pots bubbled away on a stove that might have been white at one time, but was now permanently brown. One of them piped smoke into the air. An oven gave off heat she could feel from where she stood. Overhead, nets had been tacked onto the wall, filled to capacity with dripping, filthy dishes. Anything that was not immediately in use was bolted to the counters or tied down. She moved to step back, only to find one of her paws stuck to the floor. She pulled it off and felt her stomach perform a flip-flop. Her paw had left an imprint on the floor's grime.

"Oh Slopjaw, my creative culinary compadre, I have brought you a new assistant!" Don yelled above the ruckus of the Iron Vulture's galley.

Magdalen gasped in fright when the big mass in the corner turned around. She thought it— he— had been a sack of potatoes leaning against the counter. The glower on the huge canine's face made her want to run for cover. His smock was stained in more shades of brown than she knew existed, and its size could have easily enveloped her several times.

"Is she actually worth my time?" He asked.

"Yes, of course!" Don grinned. "This is Magdalen Briar, our guest. Miss Briar, meet our ship's cook, Slopjaw."

Slopjaw's eyes widened a bit. He lifted a paw, realized how dirty it was, and spit into his palm. He rubbed it dry on his apron and offered it for a handshake. "Nice t' meetcha."

Magdalen cringed and tucked her hands behind her back. She bobbed a curtsy instead. "Er, likewise."

"Miss Briar is here to learn _all about_ being a pirate, as you may have heard. I trust you can educate her about your galley?"

"Ah… yeah. You scrub dishes?" Slopjaw asked her.

"Yes…"

He pointed to the row of pegs beside the ice chest. "Grab an apron and a stool. Get to work."

She paled. "But—"

"Now now now!" Don patted her shoulder none too gently, and shoved her forward. "Don't be shy." To the cook he added, "You can keep her as long as you like."

"But Captain!" She slid across the grease-covered tile and snagged the ice chest's door before she fell. "This isn't—"

"Enjoy your lesson!" Don turned on his heel and snapped the double doors shut.

"What is THIS supposed to teach me, huh? Answer me, you pompous jerk!"

"You will find out, and that's one more day for you, by the way!"

"ARGH!" Magdalen punched the wall and sagged down in exasperation.

"Hoi, gurl, get moving. The dinner rush will start soon. All those dishes have to get done." Slopjaw motioned to the nets hanging over the sink.

"…All of them?"

"Yeh, _all _of them."

Long before she was finished, Magdalen learned to hate soapy water, dirty dishes and soaked paws. Slopjaw made little conversation, except to tell her to scrub faster and to yell for his assistant, Myles. The scrappy mutt who appeared with a trolley moved so fast through the galley, he was more like a tan blur. He unloaded used dishes and cutlery into the nets above Magdalen and retrieved new steaming plates of food for the pirate's mess hall. Myles stopped long enough to introduce himself.

"Hi!" His smile had more holes than teeth, which gave him a whistle to his voice. "I heard that you arrived today. I'm Myles, and I really like your show! We listen to it all the time!"

"You do?" She blinked, surprised.

"Oh yes. Practically everyone on the airship does. We love it. Except for the Captain, I guess, but I guess that worked out for us, because here you are!"

"Oh…. well, thank you."

"You're welcome! If there's anything you need, you just ask!"

"Hoi, Myles, this grub ain't gonna deliver itself!" Slopjaw shook a butcher knife threateningly.

"I'm on my way, Boss! Nyyeeearooom!" Myles bustled out with his rattling trolley, making firing-gun noises to go with his airplane sound effects.

Magdalen wiped a gob of bubbles out of her hair and laughed. Slopjaw grunted.

"Good kid. Wants to fly his own plane someday with Captain Karnage, but 'e's too young yet. Stuck with me 'til then."

"He's sweet." She set the newest batch of clean plates aside. "Mind if I ask some questions?"

Slopjaw returned to hovering over his pots. "Shoot."

"What are these nets for?"

"In case tha airship rolls too steep. Dishes would hit the floor otherwise. Tha's why everything's gotta be nailed down."

"What do you do if the Iron Vulture does that while you're cooking?"

"I hope I ain't cookin' right then."

Magdalen thought about this. "Is it hard to cook for a whole crew?"

"Sortta." He sipped a spoonful of gravy and smacked his lips noisily. He bumped his head with the spoon. "Gotta keep track o' what I got, what I don't got, and what I got ta get more of."

"How do you get what you need?"

"We trades for things, mostly. If Captain Karnage done us right by plunder, sometimes I gets special things, like tha fresh batch of vanilla beans I got last week."

"What's that for?"

"His Captain's birthday."

The mug she was cleaning nearly slipped out of her hands. "Don Karnage has a birthday?"

"O' course he does." Slopjaw's dry voice held amusement for the first time, and he waved his spoon at her. "Now, enough questions, Miss, those dishes ain't gonna clean theyselves."

The dinner rush ended after 9 PM. Tired, sore, and thoroughly soaked, Magdalen managed to stay awake long enough to eat something before leaving the galley. She promised Slopjaw she'd do dishes tomorrow. Most of the pirates aboard the Iron Vulture conveniently forgot their kitchen duty, and she could tell Slopjaw was grateful for her offer to help out. He even agreed to let her try cooking a few new things, just to see what she would come up with.

As exhausted as she was, Magdalen didn't realize Dumptruck and Mad Dog were waiting for her in the hall until she nearly ran in to them. She instantly recognized the pair, since they had taken part in the raid of the _Melody_ _Belle_. Renewed energy coursed through her mind as she wondered whether she could borrow one of Slopjaw's heavy wooden spoons to beat them with.

"Uh… hello," She said, stopping a few feet away.

"Hello there!" said Dumptruck. They were both grinning. This was a good thing, right?

"Is there something I can do for you?"

Mad Dog shifted from foot to foot, hiding something behind his back. "I'm Mad Dog an' this is Dumptruck. Can…. can we get your autograph?"

"My what? Oh. Um…"

"And maybe, you can tell us a story tonight?" asked Dumptruck hopefully.

"A story?"

"Y-yah, like on der radio!"

"Oh. Um, I'd love to guys, but not tonight. It's been a really, _really_ long day."

Both pirates tilted their heads in question and finally realized how tired she looked.

"That's no problem! Maybe tomorrow night?" asked Mad Dog.

"I don't know, to be honest, because I don't know what your Captain will have me doing." They looked so dejected she added, "If I have free time, would you two be willing to teach me about your planes or something?"

They instantly brightened at the idea. "Sure!" said Mad Dog.

"Okay, we'll do that then. But if you'll excuse me, I really need to go sleep. Although…" She looked down the corridor both ways and sighed. "Everything looks the same to me. Can you help me back to my quarters?"

"Of course we can! Let's go." said Mad Dog, starting off at a pace Magdalen could hardly keep up with. "Oh, when I heard the Cap'n say he wanted to meet you, I was SO excited!"

"You were?"

"Yah! We luff your show!" said Dumptruck. "Course, der Captain didn't at first, until he said he needed to change your un-in-formed opinion."

"So he told you that you had to be nice to me?"

"Why wouldn't we be nice to you?" Mad Dog countered. "We're not bad guys _all_ the time."

"Except when you rob… plunder people."

He shrugged. "That's how we make a living."

Mad Dog's words stayed with her long after she had returned to her quarters. Although she could barely keep her eyes open, Magdalen found her notebook in the bottom of her backpack. Digging out a pencil, she wrote the quote and a few notes to herself. She could fill in the rest tomorrow. She collapsed into bed and grabbed the blanket. She fell asleep before her mind registered touching the pillow.

There were pleasant ways to be awakened, and jolting up at the banging on her door was not one of them. A jovial, accented voice rang out from the other side.

"Hallo, hallo! Good morning Miss Briar! Ready for your next lesson in pirateness?"

"Go away!" She yelled back. "I just got to sleep!"

"Tsk tsk my dear, there is daylight in the swamp! Time to get up!"

"I don't care! It can't be morning yet!" Magdalen rolled over and covered her head with the pillow. Despite the barrier, she could still hear Don Karnage.

"I am going to be counting to ten. For every number after that, I will be adding one more day to your stay…"

Magdalen scrambled out of bed.

"One..."

She dragged her pillow with her.

"Two…"

She threw the door open, red-eyed and puffing. Don didn't get to count to three. She walloped him with her pillow, hard.

"Shut up, SHUT UP! Are you in love with your own voice? You have your rules, here's mine: DO NOT DISTURB the woman trying to sleep!"

She slammed the door closed and climbed back into bed. Don spat out a mouthful of feathers.

"Just for that, I will be adding three days!"

"FINE!"

He sneezed and felt an irksome feather wiggling in his ear. He pulled it out, muttering as he walked away.

"Ungrateful female-type person, hitting me with the pillow stuffing and such…. What did I do?"

When Magdalen finally did awaken for the day, it was almost noon. She didn't remember the encounter she had with the pirate Captain until she met him on her way to the galley, where he informed her of a different task she would be assigned to do that day. He cheerfully led her to the laundry room.

"Nobody wants this job," he had said, motioning to the heaps of stinking, grubby clothes. "Guess why."

By the time Magdalen made it back to the galley, she looked forward to sinking her paws into hot, soapy water. She bolted down what food was left over from lunch and set to work.

Not surprisingly, Magdalen didn't receive a wake-up call the following morning. She spent a few hours compiling her observations and experiences of the last two days, and then went to the galley, expecting to do more dishes.

"You don't need ta be gettin' yer paws wet today, Miss." said Slopjaw, and pointed to a miserable pirate standing in front of the sink. "I have a dishwasher today. Myles caught 'im trying to leave the mess hall."

"Oh…" Magdalen put her apron back on its peg. "Do you need help cooking anything?"

"Nah, I got it covered." He tapped his chin. "But tell ya what, Captain Karnage's birthday is tomorrow. You can help me later with the dinner menu if you like."

"Sure, I can do that."

"Bless yer h'art. Oh, ah, Mad Dog and 'is friend was askin' for you earlier. They said you can meet them in the hanger."

"Okay, thanks."

Finding her way to the Iron Vulture's main hanger was one of the easier things she had to do lately. She paused at the top deck railing, taking in the view of the huge space. What she'd seen of the airship so far made her think it was cramped and packed tight, but here it was mostly empty and hollow. She counted eighteen planes on the hanger floor. It could have easily fit at least a dozen more, by her estimate. The pirates could play baseball in here and never hit anything. She examined the gears surrounding the airship's beak, wondering at the hydraulics system that powered it. And how did the bomb-bay doors work? Maybe she could meet a mechanic and ask him about it.

"Ahoy there!"

Magdalen spotted Mad Dog waving at her. His plane had been pulled out of the row next to Dumptruck's plane. She could see toolboxes scattered around them.

"Hi!" She waved back, and circled the top deck to reach the stairs. Crossing the hanger floor felt like walking over a football field. Dumptruck and Mad Dog patiently waited for her, grinning. Magdalen gasped to catch her breath.

"This place is impressive!"

"Sure is. The Cap'n's got the best airship around," boasted Mad Dog.

"He's got der only airship around." said Dumptruck. "Are you ready to learn about air-o-planes?"

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Okay. Er-hem-hem," Dumptruck cleared his throat and turned to his blue plane. "Now, as you know, airplanes are for flying vit'—"

"Ah, I wanna tell her this part!" whined Mad Dog.

"You get to talk about the engine, remember?"

The skinny pirate sulked. "Alright, but don't take too long."

"A-hem. As I vas saying, vot we haff here is a CT-37 fighter plane. It goes real fast and turns good, but only the best pilots can handle it. Not effryone gets to have a plane here."

Magdalen noticed how both pirates puffed their chests out at this. "Where did the planes come from?"

"The same place the Iron Vulture came from." He and Mad Dog shared an evil chuckle. "But mostly we haff to put together our own from spare planes and wreckages."

"You do your own maintenance?"

"Er-yup. After effry flight we check and do repairs. One liddle thing out of place and der whole thing could go kaput next time. I hate ven dat happens. Vot we haff is vot we haff to work vit', unless we steal something new."

"Wow." Genuinely impressed, she reconsidered her initial opinion of the air pirates. They weren't completely stupid, at least.

"That's right," said Mad Dog. He had climbed up onto the nose of his plane, just behind the engine. "What the plane can do depends on how good you fly it and take care of it."

"Is there a general mechanic to help too if you need it?"

"Ah, yah, that'd be Ratchet." said Dumptruck. "He fixes effrything goot, and takes care of Cap'n's plane if he doesn't haff time to do it himself."

"The Captain services his own plane?" Her eyes widened.

"Of course. Captain Karnage does all kinds of things that need doing." said Mad Dog, amused by her reaction. "What did you think he does all day?"

"Listen to himself talk."

They snorted in laughter. "Nah, that's only if he finishes effrything else." said Dumptruck. "Mad Dog can show you der engine if you want."

"Uh… sure. I'm not really good with technical things though."

"That's okay, neither are we." Mad Dog set aside a wrench and reached down. "Help her up, oaf."

Magdalen squeaked in surprise when Dumptruck grabbed her by the waist and set her on his shoulders. He glanced up and quickly decided to study the riveted floor. "Oh, er, sorry, I won't peek at your skirt."

"Don't worry, it's why I wear leggings. I'd like some warning before you do that again, though."

"Sorry."

Magdalen grabbed Mad Dog's hand. He pulled her against the plane in a more comfortable position. Satisfied that she was ready to listen to him, Mad Dog retrieved his wrench. "This here's the gas tank. There's a hose that runs underneath and out the bottom. That can be trouble if the hose gets shot. The fan belt pulls the gears that connect to this, this, and this."

She couldn't tell the components apart from one another, so she only nodded. A thought struck her. "Why do you guys like being pirates?"

From below, Dumptruck answered first. "We haff somewhere to be, and nobody telling us vot to do. Except for der Captain." he added in afterthought.

Mad Dog nodded excitedly. "Yeah! No one wanted me around, so when I met Captain Karnage, I thought, 'why not?' Who else can say they've grappled a plane and boarded it in mid-air, all just to plunder it?"

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh sure! That's the best part! Anybody who doesn't become good at it doesn't last long, if you get my drift."

"So… You must be really good at it by now, then."

"You'd better believe it. I'm an ace sharpshooter, too. That helps."

"But what about following the law and all that? Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"

Mad Dog went to scratch his ear, and knocked himself with his wrench instead. "I used to be. It doesn't matter anymore. The Captain knows what he's doing, even if he seems a bit crazy."

Magdalen started to ask another question. A pile of clattering oilcans fell over. A yellow canine with dynamite sticks tied around his arms stood there with an open can upside-down, wondering why the oil gushed out the bottom. Mad Dog sighed in exasperation and threw the wrench onto the floor.

"Cap'n's gonna be mad if you don't clean that up, Hacksaw!"

"His name is Hacksaw?" Magdalen asked Dumptruck. The great dane frowned.

"Yah. He's…. special."

Hacksaw finally realized why the oil was escaping all over his feet and hurried to put it down. "I know, I know!" he cried, "I'll go get the mop and bucket!"

Mad Dog and Dumptruck shook their heads in disappointment for their fellow pirate's intelligence.

"I always wondered how he's lasted so long," grumbled Mad Dog.

"Maybe I should help him." She tapped on Dumptruck's top hat. "You can put me down now. Thanks for showing me everything, guys."

Dumptruck set her down. "Yer welcome, girly. Haff fun with der oil spill."

Magdalen ran after Hacksaw. She lost sight of him when he disappeared around the planes. She followed her ears to an open door leading into a messy storage room. A bucket on wheels slid across the floor and stopped at her feet. It had a fine mesh screen stretched over the top, bent inward below the rim. A moment later Hacksaw came out carrying a mop. She waved at him.

"Hi! Do you need any help?"

Hacksaw automatically looked behind him to see who she was talking to. "Me?"

"Yes, you, silly. Want any help mopping up the oil?"

Hacksaw thought hard. Her offer didn't make any sense to him. Still, he wasn't going to say no. He grabbed the bucket and pinned a funnel under his arm, glancing questioningly back at Magdalen as she trailed after him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, Hacksaw."

Somehow she already knew his name. Well, he'd come across stranger things in his lifetime. He began mopping up the puddle of spilled oil and squeezed it out into the bucket. Magdalen watched how he did it and did the same. They cleaned together in an awkward silence. Why was she helping him? Nobody helped him after he'd made a mistake. And couldn't he _say_ something to her?

"Er… I like your show," he mumbled.

"Really?" she wrung out her mop and leaned on it, smiling. "Thank you. What do you like about it?"

This time he didn't have to think long. "It makes me laugh."

She giggled and prodded the bucket. "Hey, what's this screen for?"

"It's for straining out the bad stuff in the oil."

"You don't just throw it out?"

"Oh no no no! It's still good oil, even if it did fall on the floor. When we're done, it gets poured back into the barrel and I'll fix that hole. Every drop is important."

She nodded. "How do you guys get enough fuel to run the Iron Vulture?"

"We have a refueling station out west. The Cap'n has to make enough money or plunder enough to trade for it."

"Oooh." She chased a particularly slippery spot of oil across the floor before she could mop it up. She made a mental note to start a list of things Don Karnage had to do as Captain. "Hey, why do you like being a pirate?"

At this Hacksaw stopped, tilted his head to the ceiling and squinted, pondering. His eyes brightened. "I'm my own self with no one else to look out for. I get someplace to sleep, two meals a day, and interesting things to do, like watch the cockroach races."

"Ew." Magdalen wrinkled her nose. "Do you fly a fighter plane like Mad Dog and Dumptruck?"

"No, I don't have my own plane. Someday I'll find a girl, though!" He flipped his mop over and kissed it. "A girl who will be all impressed and think I'm dashingly handsome for being a pirate!" He spat out some oil, wondering how his muzzle was now covered in it. He went back to mopping.

She tried not to laugh at him. "Is it hard to be a pirate?"

"There are lean times, like when there's nothing to plunder. Cap'n Karnage gets testy when you make mistakes, but at least he doesn't kill you for them like my old Captain."

"_Kill_ you?"

Hacksaw didn't answer, and instead peeled the greasy mesh off the bucket. He wheeled it over to the broken oilcan and handed her a funnel.

"Hold this."

"Okay." Her slick paws made it hard to hold on to the smooth funnel. Between the two of them, they put the oil back into the can. Hacksaw pulled a round cork from his pocket and hammered it into the hole with his fist.

"There, that'll fix it. Whose bright idea was it to put a hole in the bottom of the can? I only needed a few drops for my hammock hinges. I'll be able to get that out of my fur. Uh… thanks for helping."

Magdalen curtsied and almost slipped. "You're welcome. I think I'll be doing some writing now. It was nice meeting you."

Unused to this politeness, he blushed. "Nice meeting you too. Will I be in your story?"

"Maybe." She hurried away, eager to get back to her cabin. She managed to make it out of the hanger before bursting into a fit of giggles. The 'upside-down' oilcan had been sitting right side up when they repaired it.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued….<em>


	3. Chapter 3

Pirating Material

Chapter 3

By Starath

* * *

><p>Kit stared out the window of the Sea Duck, resting his chin in his palm. Baloo sipped at a bottle of Orange Fizzy soda and glanced at his navigator. Satisfied with their current flight course, he decided to kick his paws up and lean back for a moment.<p>

"Penny for your thoughts, Little Britches?"

Kit counted the white caps on the ocean waves below. "I just wish I threw that apple harder."

"Yeah, I know." Baloo sighed. "Karnage played those guests like a fiddle."

"Do you think she's okay? He usually makes a ransom announcement by now."

"Aw, she's probably fine, but who can tell what ol' Karny's up to? We'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah…." Kit nodded slowly. Something caught his eye. He straightened up in his seat and pressed his nose to the glass. An aircraft carrier slid by underneath them. He rolled down the window to get a better look. He spotted familiar flags.

"Oh my gosh!"

"What is it?" Baloo leaned over to see.

"Baloo, get us out of here right _now!_"

He choked on his orange soda and dropped his feet to the floor. "What's the matter?"

"Don't ask, just _go!_ We don't want him to see us!"

"Okay, okay! Any particular direction?"

"Away from here. Fast. Maybe we can get by unnoticed, but don't stop!"

"You wanna get out and push, Kit? Calm down!"

Baloo turned right in an arc and led the Sea Duck into a bank of thick clouds. Kit rolled the window back up and shivered. His face had no color in it. Baloo handed him his soda bottle. The youngster drained it in two gulps.

"Now, you mind telling me what _that_ was all about?" asked Baloo.

"In a minute." said Kit. "He's heading northwest. We need to warn Louie."

* * *

><p>Don Karnage chewed on the end of his pencil, thinking. He turned a page of the logbook beside him, referencing some numbers. He added them to a neat row on the notes in front of him. He frowned as he did some mental calculations and wrote the result at the bottom in tight, looping script. He compared the answer to his logbook.<p>

"Very good! Fuel consumption is still optimundo."

He turned to the map on the wall of his office. Grabbing his compass and ruler, he plotted the course of the Iron Vulture and compared it to the route drawn in faded black ink. He drew an X and tapped the ruler against his chin.

"We will need to stop soon. Now, for the rations inventory." He searched for a bundle of papers that was supposed to be on his end table.

"Hallo, rations inventory, where aaaare yoooou?" He bent to check the drawer, and hit his head under the tabletop when he stood up. "Ouchies! Look at what I am doing, you nasty table!"

Rubbing the back of his head, Don remembered that he hadn't seen the inventory yet. Normally this truancy was punishable by hanging from pinkies, but he knew the galley staff was hard at work for the party tonight. He straightened the papers and put the logbooks away. He yawned and stretched, his claws nearly brushing the ceiling.

"I could do for a break from this monotone-amie anyway. Ah, the price of Captaincy."

He surveyed the office for a moment, pleased at what he saw. It was sparsely furnished with his favorite rugs and furniture. Aside from the map on the far wall, only an oil painting decorated the space. He stepped up to the portrait and sighed. How long had it been… fifteen years? Maybe more? The proud figure of a pirate wolf stared back at him, perched on a treasure chest no one had seen for decades.

"As always, I hope I am serving your memory well." Don said solemnly. "Another year come and gone. Te extraño, papá."

He bowed and left, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the past. The portrait of Rodolfo Karnage said nothing in return.

Interesting smells wafting from the galley lifted Don's spirits. What goodies would there be to eat tonight? His stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten anything since this morning. He nudged the double doors open with his elbow.

"Hallo Slopjaw! Your Captain has arrived to do a quality check and ask for the rations inventory!"

The burly cook pulled a sizzling pan out of the oven and set it on the counter. He draped his oven glove over his shoulder and pulled a toothpick out of the pocket in his apron. He poked the lumpy dessert and glanced behind him.

"Be with you in a minute, Captain Karnage."

"What did you make?" Don peered around Slopjaw's elbow and sniffed appreciatively. "I have not seen this before. Is that cinnamon I smell?"

"Aye, that's in the glazing. It's called monkey bread. Miss Briar showed me how to make it this morning. She thought the crew might like it."

"How generous of her. How is she doing, by the way?"

"Well enough. Here, have a sample." Slopjaw carefully pried a sticky ball out of the pan and handed it over. "It'll be hot." While his Captain chewed away, he prepared to put another pan of monkey bread in the oven. "She's eager to help without being asked. It's refreshing to have that sort of gal around. And her questions! She is so curious about everything."

Don swallowed and licked his fingers clean. "As I expected she would. The others have said the same thing. And this is _espléndido!_ You must add this to the regular menu!"

"Glad you like it, though there's not much to it. The cinnamon is the scarcest ingredient."

"If it is cinnamon you need, then cinnamon you shall get, my friend! Happy pirates are healthy plunderers!"

"You won't hear me argue with you on that." Slopjaw slid the next pan onto the oven rack and adjusted the temperature, making note of the time. He turned his attention to the bubbling pots on the stove. "Although between you and me, Captain, the gurl's intelligent, not smart."

Don sighed. "As most civilians are, especially the nice ladies. It's not their fault, really, since they do not know a man's world. That is one reason why I decided to educate her."

"She'll get a shock when she sees real piracy. Her innocence might get her in trouble, too."

"I have that in mind, you need not concern yourself with it. You sound quite fond of the lady, Slopjaw."

The big cook shook his head. "Some things a gal's not supposed to see. She don't belong here, Captain. I just don't want her gettin' hurt."

"That is why I let you watch over her the most." Don patted his shoulder. "Where is she, anyway? Oh, and have you the rations inventory for this week?"

"The boys invited her down to watch the cockroach races. Myles was supposed to… Ah, 'e probably got sidetracked with all the fuss going on in the mess hall." Slopjaw trudged to the double doors. "MYLES! Get yer tail in here!"

Don casually wiggled another piece of monkey bread out of the pan, yelping when he burned his thumb. He popped the morsel into his mouth and savored it. Yes, he certainly could get used having to this delicacy once and awhile. His ears pricked up at the sound of rattling dishes. The galley doors flew open and he narrowly avoided being run over by a clattering trolley. Myles skidded to a halt and pushed his bandana out of his eyes.

"You bellowed, Boss?"

"Quit yer bein' cheeky an' get Captain Karnage the weekly inventory. An' be more careful when you drive that thing, you almost hit him. What am I supposed to tell everyone if the Captain looks like a bearskin rug someday, eh?"

"I did?" Myles asked, horrified. "I apologize, Cap'n! I didn't see you!"

"Clearly." Don muttered, his tail swishing with impatience. "The inventory, if you please."

"Right! Right away!" Myles scrambled off and disappeared into the pantry. He returned carrying a stack of papers tied together with string. He presented the bundle to Don. "It's all here, down to the last grain of salt, like always!"

Despite his irritation, Don smiled at the young mutt. If only a few more of his crewmembers were as eager to please as Myles. He hoped that Myles wouldn't grow out of it. "Very good, thank you. I leave you both to do what you do best, and I will continue with what I do best. Carry off with your duties, you two!"

On his way back to his office, Don met Magdalen coming from the other direction. Her tail had puffed out to twice its normal size. She grumbled and stomped on the deck so hard the metal planks creaked. He hailed her with a polite nod.

"Good afternoon. Is there something the matter?"

She shuddered violently. "Is there anywhere I can take a bath right now?"

"I am afraid not, since that is a luxury even for me. What has gotten your nose in a pretzel knot?"

"Cockroaches!" she shouted, flailing. "Icky crawly skittering bugs of doom! Eeeeeeewww!"

Don cocked an eyebrow. "You did not enjoy the races?"

"I did, until one of them _ran up my leg!_ Ew ew ew! And it wouldn't come out! It got in my _shirt! _Unclean disease-ridden pests! ICK! And all they did was laugh at me, the idiots! If I ever see one of those things again, I'll squash it, prize-winning bug or not!"

"Entertainment is entertainment to my men, unfortunately. Perhaps doing some dishes will help clean you of buggy germs?"

She stopped and dropped her arms. "Good idea. Thank you, Captain."

"It is nothing, really. But if you would excuse me, I must leave you." Again he nodded to her, and moved on to his office. When he had shut the door, he allowed himself a long, hearty laugh.

* * *

><p>That night, the mess hall rumbled with constant conversation and laughter, filled to the capacity with expectant, still-hungry pirates. Usually the room held two long tables laden with all the food for the day, but tonight it had been rearranged to accommodate the Iron Vulture's crew and Captain. The tables wore blue and red tablecloths, accented by gold trim that none of the pirates paid attention to anyway. The food interested them much more.<p>

"Make way, make way!" called Myles, wheeling his trolley in at top speed. "We bring dessert!"

The constant rumble became an all-out cheering roar. Magdalen entered cautiously and immediately ducked. A plate of mashed potatoes splattered into the wall over her head. She scanned the unruly crowd, trying to decide what she thought of this chaos. Was this a mess hall, or a high school cafeteria? She stood on her toes to see over everything. At the back of the room she spotted Don Karnage and the pirates closest to being called "officers." Weaving her way through the confusion, she approached the table and bobbed a little curtsy.

"Good evening Captain, and gentlemen."

Somehow Mad Dog, Dumptruck and Gibber had already gotten a hold of the spice cake Myles delivered two minutes before. They looked at each other in puzzlement until they realized who the "gentlemen" were that she referred to. Mad Dog wiped frosting off his whiskers.

"Hi Madge! Come to join us?"

"I'm afraid not, but with his Captain's permission, I come bearing his birthday treat."

Don clapped his hands in anticipation. "Haha! He made it again, didn't he? Come come, let me see!"

Magdalen slid the plate in front of him. Reverently, Don lifted the cover and chuckled with delight. A pale circle of Spanish flan glistened. Grabbing his fork, he cut into the flan and sampled it like a gift from heaven. "Marvelous!" he said with his mouth still full. "My complimentations to the cook and his assistants!"

"Thank you, Captain." she curtsied again. "I'll be sure to pass that on."

She excused herself from the officer's table to scavenge for leftovers. She noted that the fifth pan of monkey bread was almost already gone when she helped herself to the meager remains of supper. She made a sandwich from scraps of meat and cheese, trying not to bump in to anybody at the same time. She found an empty table and began to nibble on her meal.

"Uh, hi, is this seat taken?"

A short grey cat smiled at her. Magdalen shook her head. "Not that I know of."

"Good! Me an' the boys wanted to talk to you. Name's Sly."

"Nice to meet you."

This began a round of introductions that lasted until every seat at the table had been filled. Although nervous at first, Magdalen grew used to the attention and took the opportunity to remember every detail they told her. Sly was one of the Iron Vulture's gunmen. Slim and Jacques served as the navigator and helmsman. Hal, apparently, was in charge of the bomb bay doors. When asked, they eagerly brought over Ratchet, who was more than happy to explain the mechanical intricacies that powered the great air ship. She posed the same question to all of them: Why were they pirates? The answers varied, but they carried a common theme: Freedom at the price of danger. Some of them had no other place to go; some of them were loners with questionable morals. Magdalen's fingers started to itch with the urge to write. In return, the pirates wanted to know about her life— Where did she come from? How did she get her radio show? Was she single?

The last question caused a coughing fit when she choked on a piece of spice cake. Hal patted her on the back.

"You okay?"

"Yeah…. fine…" she took a swallow of her ginger ale. Her ears stood up straight. "What's that?"

The others listened for a moment.

"Oh, that." Sly said, wiggling a finger in his ear.

"We hear it every year," said Jacques. "Cap'n's favorite song."

"It'll go on for hours now." grumbled Slim.

"Aw, but it sounds nice. Like a Spanish version of the waltz."

"You go on thinkin' that, Miss. It's annoyin', is what it is." said Sly.

"Oh, come on guys, give him a break." Magdalen giggled. "Captain Karnage only gets his birthday once a year."

Ratchet snorted. "That's too often for— hold fast, here comes the Boss!"

Magdalen turned to see Don Karnage approaching with hands clasped behind his back. She hastily brushed crumbs off her shirt and noticed the flour stains on her skirt and leggings. She beat out the fine powder. What a time to look so unkempt!

"Good evening, Captain!" chorused the pirates together, innocent as schoolchildren.

Don knew better. "Good evening, my men. I trust you are enjoying the company of our wonderful guest?"

"Oh yes!"

"Uh huh!"

"She's real cute!"

Magdalen almost slid out of her seat in embarrassment. She started when Don offered her his hand.

"Captain?"

"Would you honor me with a dance on my only day of days, Madam?"

The look on his face made her blush and press her paws into her lap. "Oh no no, I haven't danced since Senior Prom. I'd be too clumsy, and besides—"

"It would mean the world. I insist."

She hesitated. How could she say no? If she did, it would be a refusal right in front of his crew. But to say yes, it meant….

"Please?" he added.

"The honor would be mine, Captain." Magdalen took a deep breath and placed her hand in his own. "I am glad to join you."

As he led her away, Hal sighed and rested his chin on the table. "How come that only works for him?"

The tables had been moved aside to make room for a messy yet adequate dancing space. Magdalen felt the eyes of every pirate on her and focused very hard on not tripping over herself. Dancing with Captain Don Karnage! The very idea sent her adult mind into a panic, while the little girl still living inside her heart squealed joyfully. She had to admit that she found him handsome… even if he _was _a rogue… and he'd stolen her out of everyday life so she could experience the life of a pirate…. How romantic was that?

Well, okay. Sort of. Magdalen's ears pinned down for a moment. Common sense warred with her heartstrings. She squeaked aloud when Don stopped and positioned one hand at her hip. She paid attention to her feet. Anything so she didn't have to look him in the eyes. She had to work to keep up with him, and slipped more than once onto his boots.

"Sorry, sorry!"

"You are doing fine, except for one thing."

"Huh?"

"You are not smiling."

She laughed nervously. "I'm too scared."

"Of me?"

"Well… yeah. The last time we were this close you had me at sword point."

"A necessary action for the endings to meet the meanings. However, you needn't fear me now, although it is perfectly understandable."

"How humble of you to say so –eep!" She grabbed his shoulder when he suddenly dipped and twirled her.

"Loosen up! You are supposed to be having fun!" he teased.

"I can hardly keep up—"

"That is because you are trying too hard. Stay light on your heels and toes, like this."

"Why—eep! Please warn me before doing that—why did you ask me to dance anyway?"

"Truthfully, I have not had a dance on this day since I was a child. And none of my crew are of the gentle persuasion."

"Ah, so you took the chance while you had it."

"You could put it that way."

"Opportunist."

He grinned. "Pirate."

"Same thing. Um… When did you last dance on your birthday?"

"Questions, questions!" Don tsked, and spun them in a circle. "There is a time for wonderings and a time to just be, yes-no?"

"No—I mean, yes. I think." When did this song end? She hadn't stepped on him lately, at least. "I can't help being curious. You're just so…"

"Awe-inspiring? Strikingly handsome?"

"... You." she finished, and prodded one of his brass buttons.

He laughed. "If I tell you, will you let me admire you in silence for a moment?"

"Adm—?" she swallowed. "Uh, sure."

"My last birthday dance was with my mother when I was seven years old. Papa was visiting from the sea on that day. We hadn't seen him for two years, and this song was playing. It was one of those nights I shall remember for as long as I am living."

"Oh." A thought occurred to her. "Was your dad a pirate too?"

"He was, and he taught me everything he knew, and even things he didn't know."

"What about—"

"Ah ah! Where is my moment of silence?"

Magdalen clicked her jaw shut and concentrated on a ball of blue fuzz on his uniform. She stiffened when he leaned over her ear.

"Don't forget to smile."

The smile came, along with a deep blush. She chanced a look up and caught him smirking at her. Of _course_ he was aware of what affect her had on her! She groaned and hid her face against his chest. He slowed their pace to a swaying sidestep. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

"Careful now, don't be falling in love with me."

A bolt of resentment coursed through her. She pulled back. "Excuse me?"

"It's completely natural to be drawn to someone such as myself. If you should happen to feel any affection toward me, please do not act on it, but it is not healthy to deny the strong feelings you are having. I am so marvelous, after all, that it cannot be—hey! Madam!" Don lost balance when she broke away from him with all the force of a lightning strike. She marched to the nearest table and picked up a slice of spice cake.

"We were not finished!" he protested, taken aback when she stormed up to him.

"Happy birthday, _Captain!_"

She smashed the cake into his face.

Don blinked. Frosting dripped from his nose. "Was it something I said?"

The watching pirates howled with laughter.

Magdalen nearly collided with Gibber as she turned around. He dodged around her and pulled on Don's coat sleeve. Don tilted an ear in his direction. She made out the word "urgent" from the frantic whispering. Instantly the Captain's expression turned grim. He used Gibber's hat to clean his face and hurried off. Curious, Magdalen followed him.

At the radio room, Don met his second mate, Will. Will pulled off his headset and adjusted some dials on the radio. He spoke into the microphone.

"Cap'n's here now, Logan. Make your report."

The speaker popped and crackled. "I sighted the Faraway Plains just before sundown."

Magdalen peeked around the door in time to see Don's face become pale. He snatched the microphone away from Will.

"You are certain of this?"

"Aye, I'm certain as the sky is blue. I know those flags from last time. He's looking for you again, Captain."

He slouched and gripped his head in both paws. "What was his heading?"

"Bearing north-northwest when I spotted him."

"And you did not think to _follow,_ you idiot?"

"Beggin' your pardon, Captain Karnage, but you know as well as I that I can't leave the trading post."

"Right…. right." Don's shoulders tightened. "Thank you, Logan. I may not be visiting you as soon as I'd hoped. Karnage out."

"Understandable. Watch your back, and good luck. Logan out."

He arose from his chair without any of the grace or confidence he'd had five minutes before. His eyes held the look of one haunted by demons. He brushed by Magdalen when he left, scarcely recognizing that she stood there. She started to follow him but stopped when Will touched her shoulder.

"You best let him be, Miss."

"Why…?"

Will shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough."

Magdalen witnessed a strange transformation take place among the air pirates. Within an hour of the warning, the joyful atmosphere on the Iron Vulture vanished. Card decks and checkerboards traded places with guns and knives. She had never seen so many weapons in one place before. She tried to return to the galley, only to have Slopjaw bodily toss her out.

"You stay outta here, gurl, an' don't come back!"

Myles helped her up. She rubbed her bottom tenderly. "What did I do?"

"It's not what you did, Ma'am, it's just not safe in there for you." Even Myles' eternal optimism had shifted into a humorless mood. "Best you nip off to your cabin for the night."

She hesitantly followed his advice, her mind spinning with questions. The lantern creaked when she turned it on above her desk. An orb of light swung back and forth across the room. She stared at the blank notebook in front of her, her pencil poised just over the page. She glanced at a stack of paper sitting on her backpack. Her gaze drifted to the notebook and back. Finally, she huffed and set her pencil aside.

"It couldn't hurt, could it?"

It took her some time to find Don Karnage's office. Inside she could hear metal grating on stone and cursing in Spanish. She knocked on the door.

"Captain?"

"Unless you have a present for me, go away!"

She stepped away as if she'd been struck. "Actually, I sort of do."

A pause. "Come in, but do not waste my time!"

Now she reconsidered her brilliant idea. She swallowed and pulled the door open. She found Don sharpening his sword on a whetstone, his jaw set in a determined line.

"What is it that you want?" He snapped.

"Uh… I thought you might like to see the start of my script."

His brow furrowed.

"The one you wanted to approve?"

"Ah, yes, that. Put it over there." He pointed to his desk with his sword. Inspecting the blade closely, he grabbed a piece of paper and ran it over the edge. The paper ripped apart with a dreadful sound that made her shudder.

"Um, Captain, if you don't mind me asking, what's going on?"

Don growled low in his throat. "I am expecting company."

"Oh…" That didn't tell her much, but she decided not to press the issue. Something glittered by her foot. She picked up a pointed crystal on a string. "Is this—"

"You are dismissed." Don said without looking at her. "Shoo."

A curt retort sprang onto her tongue, but she held it back. "As you wish, Captain."

She pocketed the crystal and closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p>The sun beat down on the Iron Vulture at noon the next day. The lazy <em>whump-whump-whump<em> of the airship's turbines generated the only breeze. Nothing but seabirds drifted in and out of sight. On the Command Bridge, Don Karnage surveyed the sea ahead with red eyes. He guided his airship with a gentle turn of the helm.

"Anything yet?"

Slim checked the periscope. "Not yet, Captain." He said, just like he had for the last three hours.

"Curses and more curses to that Seymour! He thinks he can play hide and seekers with me, the Dread Pirate Don Karnage! I _will _find you…"

Slim rolled his eyes and muttered to Jacques, who stood by the engine controls. "How can an aircraft carrier hide in the open ocean?"

Jacques shrugged. "The same way an airship can hide in broad daylight with no cloud cover."

Hacksaw giggled and brought up his binoculars. He didn't notice that he had them turned around backward. He gasped.

"Cap'n! Cap'n! I see something portside!"

"Is it the Faraway Plains?" He demanded.

Hacksaw squinted. "She flies the Southern Cross and the Jolly Roger!"

"Ha ha! I have found you, Seymour!" Don spun the ship's helm. He grinned evilly as the view out the windows shifted. "No doubt before you—WHAT? Full throttle, Scotty! NOW!"

Responding to his nickname, Jacques heaved on the lever that fired the engines. The Iron Vulture groaned as it went into a steep climb. The pirates grabbed on to anything nearby to keep their footing.

"They are almost on top of us!" barked Don, "Why did you not say something sooner?"

"It's still all the way over there!" Hacksaw pointed at the aircraft carrier that turned its cannons as he spoke.

"EEDIOT! Look with your own eyes!"

A dull _boom_ cracked through the air. Don scrambled to reach the ship's radio. "Make readiness for impact!" He shouted.

Another _boom_ sounded, followed by another. The first shell exploded just in front of the bridge window, rocking the airship with its shockwave. The second shot whistled by harmlessly. The third found its mark on the Iron Vulture's exposed belly. Don fell against the handles of the helm and momentarily lost his breath. He wheezed, gnashing his teeth.

"FIRE CANNONS!" He ordered.

"Which ones?"

"ALL of them!"

Slim shouted through the radio, "Fire all cannons!"

The Iron Vulture's fore cannons sprang to life and jolted the airship with the recoil. The smaller cannons on the top deck joined the foray, peppering the aircraft carrier below with weapons fire. The guns aboard the Faraway Plains returned fire in earnest. Don pulled the Iron Vulture out of range, but not before taking two more collisions. Sirens blared warning throughout the ship. Air pirates hurried everywhere to repair broken pipes and sparking panels.

"Slim, take the bridge. Keep us steady." Don ran out to the hanger with his bullhorn. His stomach twisted when he saw the gaping hole in the bottom-rear of the airship.

"To the planes, men! To your planes! Open the beak!"

He leapt over the railing to the nearest set of stairs. He made it to his plane, the Tri-Wing Terror, in time to watch the Iron Vulture's great mouth open wide. He stared in disbelief. Three fighter planes flew directly at them. He ducked as bullets zinged by overhead. Agonized cries of pain broke out behind him. He fumbled for his radio.

"Close the beak, CLOSE THE BEAK!"

The command came too late. The enemy fighter planes dived into the opening and roared across the length of the hanger. Any air pirate that did not find cover threw themselves to the deck. The planes pulled around and landed on the outer edge of the bomb-bay doors. Don left his plane and drew his sword.

"To me, men! Surround them, now!"

Armed with shotguns, knives, and anything deadly, the Iron Vulture's crew hastened to obey the orders of their Captain. Don approached the lead plane, ignoring the other two pilots who climbed out on either side.

"Get out here, Seymour!" shouted Don, shaking in rage. "You have no right to do this _again! _What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

The cockpit canopy slid back to reveal a sharp-eyed dingo with an orange scarf and flight jacket. He hopped out with an impact that made the deck rattle. He grinned insolently and leaned over Don to make use of his impressive height. He straightened his feathered cap over his ears and spoke with a lazy Australian drawl.

"Why, to give moiself the best entrance possible, o' course. And look, y' have your whole crew to welcome Captain Avast Seymour on deck. How noice of you!"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


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